


Return

by peacehopeandrats



Series: Second Chance [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Far in the future of the Second Chance series, Gideon returns to the home at the Edge of Realms with the man in his life.Written for October's Monthly Rumbelling, this is a flashback scene to when Belle and Rumple once welcomed him home.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Second Chance [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591525
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Return

The warm ball of light on the horizon mocked Gideon as he stepped out into the small yard to face his parents’ home. There had been so much joy here once, so much love, now it was just an empty shell, useless but for the containment of dusty memories. So much time had passed that the bushes were overgrown. Wild and untended, they spoke of the the fate of the garden in the back. Everything was so alive here in this endless summer, yet so very dead.

A hand settled gently against his palm, fingers mingling with his own and squeezing with a light, steadying pressure. “You okay?”

Gideon blinked away a tear and nodded. “Yeah.” They both ignored the crack in his voice and the way he refused to let go.

The distant waterfalls reclaimed their place in the silence that settled between the men, spilling eternally beneath the sun that refused to relinquish its place in the sky. It was a beautiful summer day, just like every other, but all Gideon could think of were the mingling sensations of autumn.

* * *

Tree branches rustled as Gideon pressed through them and entered the clearing at the Edge of Realms. Golden light struck his face and he blinked against it, eyes squinting to try and make out the forms of his parents through the window panes. The sitting area was empty, as was the kitchen, and he fiddled uneasily with the handle of his small suitcase as he tried to work out why. His parents hadn’t been absent before. Even if his father had gone for supplies, his mother would always remain. It was safest, considering how time had passed for her.

The thought of her absence caused a sharp stab of pain in his chest and he clutched at it in worry. Then a swath of white fabric drifted into his vision, high and to the left, making him sigh with relief.

“Did you come to lurk at windows or visit the parents that miss you?” Even through the closed door, his mother’s voice reached his ears. She descended the bent staircase with a casual grace that bordered on caution, but opened her arms wide the moment he pushed open the door.

“Mother,” Gideon beamed. He dropped his case in the entry and hurried to wrap his arms around her. “It’s good to see you.”

“It feels like you expected not to,” she teased, a remark which granted her freedom from her son’s embrace. Her eyes roamed over him, narrowing with concern as she read his features. “What’s wrong, Gideon?”

Gideon shook his head and moved to close the door, making himself busy in hopes of avoiding the worry she’d obviously seen. He shrugged as he moved his bag to sit against the interior wall. “Northing’s wrong, Mother. I’m just happy to see you.” He looked around the small space as if he hadn’t just taken notice of everything from outside, then frowned. “Where’s Papa?”

His mother smiled. “Upstairs, getting dressed.” Her arms folded over her chest as she spoke and Gideon realized in that moment that she was only wearing her sleeping shift. Usually tidy, her hair was mussed at the back, easily revealing what activity her son interrupted. The moment she noticed where his gaze lingered, she reached up to run fingers through the worst of the mess. “We weren’t expecting you for another week.”

Happy to divert the conversation away from himself, Gideon quirked up an eyebrow and curled his lips into a cheeky grin before nodding in the direction he had come. “What? You don’t do that sort of thing outside any more?” 

“It’s harder getting up off of the ground these days,” Belle protested playfully. “And we always _did_ use the bed, you know.”

“Just not whenever I was on my way home.” For this remark, Gideon got a light shove on his arm. The bubbling sound of his mother’s giggle filled the room and he felt his heart soar. He missed the honesty that his family’s relationship had been built on. Most of his fellow classmates were put off by Gideon’s willingness to discuss any subject, including those of a sexual nature and in his first weeks he realized what a treasure such openness could truly be. 

His mother shot him a warning look before moving to take the kettle from where it hung over the fire. “That was _one_ time!” 

“And I can’t ever let you forget it because _I_ have the image forever stored in memories,” Gideon explained with a chuckle. He waved a hand toward the window, at the ridge outside of the house. “The portal opened and the moment I stepped through there you were, sprawled on the ground, Papa’s nicely tanned backside the first thing I saw. No tan lines. None. That’s when I decided it was best to come through the bushes. Give you some warning first.”

A brisk tap of boot heels on the stairs was followed by a throaty chuckle from Gideon’s father that answered his half-hearted complaint. The sound was warm and inviting, wrapping the younger man in a feeling of home. “Is our son going on about that encounter in the yard again?” The bright smile on his face radiated pure joy into the room the moment his eyes met Gideon’s, making it impossible to think of Rumplestiltskin as anything other than a ray of sunshine bursting in from one of the windows.

Gideon rushed to the staircase and caught his father in a hug before he could move from the final two steps. Leaning forward on instinct alone, he pressed his head to the man’s chest. It was a gesture that made him feel small and childish again in all of the best ways. The moment he heard the beat of his father’s heart, Gideon realized how desperately he had needed his family, how lonely he had been in the months that had passed, how coming back might have been the right thing to do after all. Strong arms surrounded him and he burrowed deeper, holding on as if his life depended on the contact.

“Gideon.” His father’s voice became thick with worry. “What’s wrong, son?”

Taking in a deep breath before letting go, Gideon finally stepped away and let his father join him at the foot of the stairs. “Nothing,” he lied. “I only missed you.”

His parents glanced at each other, exchanging knowing looks from across the room, then his father’s stance changed. Casually he poked a finger in the air between them and strode forward, into the area that was the kitchen. “You didn’t think we were here.” 

“You weren’t!” The words were the whine of a spoiled child, even to Gideon’s own ears, and he made an apologetic face once they escaped him. “You can’t blame me for being worried. I couldn’t find either of you, didn’t _hear_ either of you-”

“Maybe if you start letting yourself in instead of stomping around in the bushes, you’d have a better idea of where we were.” His father chuckled, then gestured around them with his hands as he spoke. “Why do you come through there anyway? The portal would open just as easily in the yard or the garden.”

“He doesn’t trust us to behave ourselves,” Gideon’s mother announced. She gave her son a smile, then held out the cup of steaming tea she’d made. “Here. Sit down. Both of you.”

The three took their usual places at the small table, each holding the warm beverage in their own way. His father idly toyed with the chipped cup as he gazed at the vapor rising from it, the tips of his fingers caressing the porcelain as he would his wife’s skin. Gideon’s mother held her own cup at either side, surrounding it with her palms, letting it warm her hands. Only Gideon grasped the handle as if he were ready to lift it to his lips. He stared down into the dark liquid and tried to contain a sigh, arm bent awkwardly as if he’d been frozen mid-task.

“It really is good to be home,” he said, repeating himself for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. He finally managed to sip at the tea and closed his eyes to enjoy the taste of it on his tongue and the hint of peach that sweetened it. His mother was a magician with tea, mastering combinations of flavors that would boggle the mind of others, and she knew exactly when he needed something fruity, something with a hint of bitterness, or his favorite spiced orange and honey. “Truly. I know you think something is bothering me, but I just… I didn’t know how much I missed you until I got here.”

“Seems to be a little more than that,” his father suggested.

Gideon abandoned the tea and sat back in his chair with enough force that it sent his breath out in a short huff. “I don’t know that there is,” he said at last, not really knowing how else to explain what he was feeling or even where to begin in the explanations of the events that brought him home.

Like a mind reader, his mother went straight to the heart of things. She leaned forward and reached out across the table, leaving her hand resting, palm up, for him to take. “Tell us about the academy. How are your studies going?”

“Things are good,” Gideon told her simply, as he fought to swallow down the truth. He was supposed to feel free enough to say anything here, yet this one thing he couldn’t admit. Ignoring the offered touch out of pure distraction, he closed his eyes and took a breath to steady himself for what he knew was to come.

“Gideon,” she pressed but didn’t otherwise move.

“I know time works differently for us, but we’ve worked out those differences by now,” his father reminded him. “At least well enough to anticipate when you’ll return for a visit.” The man was fishing but Gideon refused to take the bait, at least not until he opened his eyes and caught the sadness in his father’s gaze. 

Tilting his head upward to avoid the feelings churning in his own heart, Gideon stared at the wooden beams overhead so that he wouldn’t have to accept his parents’ concern. He tried to force himself to ignore the growing sadness that seemed to settle around the three of them, but failed miserably. There was too much love between them to hold back, even though he didn’t want to tell them the truth,.Suddenly the stories he had chosen to dictate instead seemed completely inadequate now, shallow and obvious. How could he even begin to think he could pull the wool over either of their eyes, especially with his mother’s love for fiction and his father’s mastery of storytelling?

“Son.” From the corner of his eye, Gideon watched his father lean forward on the table. Mirroring his wife, hand stretched out, beckoning to him, but it was the crack in the man’s voice that hit hardest, not the image of abandonment.

Gideon couldn’t stand the heartbreak he was causing and crumbled beneath the weight of it. “I was released.” The words came out in a tumble of emotion, through trembling lips and tightly shut eyes. Putting it out in front of them felt like an explosion large enough to turn mountains to dust. He had failed and now he was finally admitting it to the two people who relied on him most. All of his studies revolved around magic and history, not for his own sake, but so that his papa could finally be free of the dagger without having to wait for the sunset that refused to come. His parents were counting on him to find another way and he’d let them down.

His mother took in a breath. “But why?”

All he could do was shrug. If he spoke now he would break and he knew it. 

A chair scuffed the floor, a sound followed by his father’s stiff voice. “Obviously there’s been some mistake. You were their prize pupil all of last year.”

The sound of footsteps was followed by the opening of a drawer and the combination forced Gideon’s eyes open. “Papa-”

“You tell me who I need to write to, Gideon. We’ll set this straight.”

“Papa.” Gideon called out with more force, finally leaning on the table to rest his hand where his father’s had been, reaching out to draw him back. He took his mother’s hand as well and felt the squeeze of her silent support. “This isn’t something you can simply write a complaint about. Please. Let me explain.”

Reluctantly, his father returned to his chair, parchment and quill abandoned on the desk where they were kept. He moved now in silence, settling on the edge of his seat, back rigid with worry, and awaited the promised tale.

“I can go back,” Gideon told them both, hoping that the statement would ease his father’s anger and his mother’s concern to settle everyone somewhere in the middle of their emotions, where listening would be easiest. “They _want_ me back, just… not right now.”

“I don’t understand,” his mother fretted. “What happened?”

Gideon let out a long sigh and slumped back int his chair. “They imposed a break on me. For medical leave.”

His father’s eyes immediately darted over his form, studying his face, chest, and hands. “Medical leave? What ails you? Don’t they have healers or-”

A touch from Belle stopped the distraught ramblings and his father turned to dissolve into her loving gaze. “Maybe we should just let him tell us his story.” The words of her suggestion were soft, encouraging, and full of affection. 

Gideon released his grip on her hand and took a sip of his cooling tea, then tipped his head downward. He wanted to study the table, follow the grains of wood with his eyes until the reason for their conversation was so distant that continuing would be pointless. Instead he closed his eyes against his wandering thoughts. When he finally spoke, the words were soft, but strained. 

“I collapsed in one of my classes,” he confessed. “I was in herbal studies. We were working on identification and usage, and I just… fell forward. I don’t remember it, really. When I woke up they’d transported me to the healer’s wing.” He shrugged then, a gesture that he wished would cover the anger he felt at the time, anger that was bubbling up again at the retelling. “Apparently they assumed I’d ‘experimented’ with some of samples we were studying. Combined some of them to make a hallucinogen or something.”

Now his mother was angry. Gone was the understanding calm in her eyes. It had been replaced in an instant with the burning glare of distress. “They accused you of doing _drugs_?”

“Happens all the time, apparently,” Gideon muttered. Then, realizing the implications of his words, he continued on in a rush. “I didn’t do it, though. I swear.”

Rumple reached out to put his palm over the back of Gideon’s hand and rubbed it gently. “ _We_ know you wouldn’t. Anyone who knows you would never believe it either. I’m sure your friends at the academy all said the same when they were asked.”

Gideon’s face fell, eyes turning away from the table to stare out the window. Of course they would expect him to have friends, to be able to confide in at least one person. People his age were eager for friendships, even in such a prestigious place as Elphame Academy. He might not have had any experience with “modern” higher education, but Gideon knew enough to recognize that the university culture was fairly uniform through the realms. Everyone was away from their parents or guardians, free for the first time to explore the forbidden, seek out the dangerous, and test limits that were no longer set against them. Students bonded over their adventures and interests, laughed and chatted in the hallways or in class, and held parties that lasted until dawn… But he was never among them.

“Gideon?” His mother tipped her head curiously. For a few breaths she seemed willing to wait for his attention, but when no response came, she pressed on. “If it wasn’t the herbs, what happened?”

“Exhaustion,” he said at last, but offered nothing more. The humiliation of his dismissal washed over him again and he gave in to the battle before it had even begun. 

Her lips turned into a thin smile that perfectly blended worry with a mother’s love. “There’s nothing shameful in working too hard, Gideon. It’s maybe not the _best_ way to go about getting an education, but all it tells me is that you are determined to do your _best_.”

“That’s just it, Mother. I _was_ doing my best. At _everything._ ” Gideon took another swallow of his tea and turned the cup in his hands for the sake of having something to do.

Across the table from him, his mother’s expression melted from one thing to the next until it settled on determination. She pushed herself to her feet and held out a hand for him. “I think we need to have this conversation over a cooking fire,” she told him in that way that meant it wasn’t actually a suggestion or even an option to pick from. “What season did you come from?”

“Autumn,” Gideon whispered, thinking back to the smells of dying leaves and the brush of crisp air against his cheeks.

“Your favorite. All those years we spent at fairs and harvest festivals…” Her voice trailed off as she seemed to relive the past, then snapped back into being a moment later. “Well. We’ll need plenty of cinnamon, then. Maybe make some sweet rolls and grilled apples? Fall cobbler?”

Despite his hopes to drop their conversation, Gideon found himself nodding his agreement, mostly because cooking with his mother was not only a therapy, but a tradition that he simply couldn’t refuse. There wasn’t any way to know how much time was left for them to stand side by side, elbow deep in flour or with their hands covered in grated cheese or powdered sugar.

“Sounds good,” he told her as he took her offered hand, but recognition of his father’s stillness prevented him from standing. “Papa?”

“I’ll sit here,” his father said absently, though he gave them a each a smile.

Worry pressed at Gideon, but he soon gave in. His father would be only a step or two away, watching them work. They wouldn’t be parted, at least not physically, and his father wouldn’t offer up any of the thoughts that were haunting him until he was ready. After pressing a kiss to the top of the man’s head, Gideon hurried to help his mother gather everything they would need and tried to ignore the grumble in his stomach when it cried out in anticipation of the delicious treats he would soon have before him.

The pair worked in silence until the baking process began, when they rambled on about measurements and passed off tasks from one person to the other. Gideon knew what his mother was doing, felt her casually poke into the life he’d tried to keep hidden from her. She did the work with such ease, slipping a question in with the request for a cup of sugar or an instruction to prepare the pan. It was her own type of magic, born from her need to accept his father’s many moods, a magic that twisted everyday tasks into outright emotional confessions. Every time Gideon tried to catch the moment when the topics drifted to what he most needed them to be, and every time he failed to notice the border between cooking and confession.

“We need a little more milk, I think,” she told him as she stirred the glaze for the cinnamon rolls they’d prepared. Gideon measured out an amount in front of her until she gave a curt nod, then added it while she worked. “Did you have any friends with you?”

“Friends?” Gideon’s mind ran backwards through their conversation about the cinnamon cakes sold at one of their favorite fairs, trying to work out what she could mean, but came up empty.

“That day in class. Were any of your friends in herbal studies with you?”

Gideon shrugged, knowing already where this was headed. “No.”

She frowned up at him, her hands stilling. “That’s a very loaded pair of letters, Gideon.” Her eyes met his and he hurried back to carving the apples for the grill, hoping to try and escape her scrutiny.

“Well, I mean, I knew people in the class with me. We talked sometimes.” Gideon shrugged. “Two of them lived on my hall.”

His mother thought for a moment, then nodded. “Acquaintances, then. Still, that’s a luxury I never really had when I was young. Schoolrooms full of students chatting together about the next assignment that was due…”

“Yeah,” Gideon allowed. “It’s kind of nice. Gives a sense of camaraderie, I guess.” He glanced over his shoulder at his father while he spoke, checking on him. The man was silent and still, eyes unfocused on the present, which meant he was somewhere fighting the darkness of his past. They knew he was best left alone to weigh whatever thoughts were heaviest, but it didn’t stop either of them from feeling the pinch of worry that crept up when it happened. “It is nice to have people to talk to, brainstorm with, you know?”

“What about when you aren’t working? Is there a tavern somewhere or a common area where you can…” His mother tipped her head as she thought, then tisked at herself. “Well, relax? Get to know each other? Does the Academy hold parties or formal dances?”

“I don’t know.” The answer came before Gideon realized it and revealed itself only in his mother’s stillness. In that moment he knew she’d worked out everything. “I mean, I know there are socials-”

She reached out a hand and rested it on his arm. “Gideon… How many courses are you taking this year?”

“Eight,” he said simply. “With one additional lesson taught on the rest days.” They knew his studies were important to him, his papa had always taken pride in his scholarly nature. There wasn’t any harm in admitting the fact that he’d managed to squeeze in three extra courses, it was the rest he wasn’t willing to reveal.

His mother set down the bowl she was using and turned to face him. “You’re taking _nine_ full classes. And did you allow yourself any free time between them?” The words were as hard as the apricot pits left over from the cobbler that was already cooking.

Gideon didn’t want to answer and clung to the work of coring the apples instead, using the task as a distraction from the truth he refused to admit. In the end it was his father who answered Belle’s question, his voice a mix of deep emotions.

“It’s my fault,” he rasped. “I should never have brought you into this quest to rid myself of the dagger.”

Immediately Gideon set the fruit aside, dropping everything to crouch at his father’s chair. “You didn’t do this, Papa. I _want_ to find a way to cleanse your heart.”

His father waved him off. “That isn’t what I mean.”

“This isn’t about the dagger. Even if the prophecy said that eating fall cobbler with a slice of cinnamon roll was the way to rid you of the dagger, your heart would still hold the memory of the darkness. I _know_ there’s a way to cleanse it, to reset it, so that you can have a fresh start.” Gideon stared into his father’s eyes, searching the brown of them as if he could pluck the pain from their depths and release its hold on him.

“I already have that, Gideon,” Rumple told him as he stood, finally snapped from whatever torments he’d found himself trapped in. “I was given that when I was given another chance at a life with you.”

Gideon smiled and stood. “I know, Papa, but…” He sighed, then gestured at the place where the dagger was stored. “What if once the dagger is gone you can _still_ use magic? What about Queen Regina and anyone else who learned _dark_ magic? Wouldn’t it mean something to know that their magic could be changed, even to the very core?” Placing one hand on each of his father’s arms, Gideon stared down into the familiar face that held so much pain. “What if the students who learned from you, the ones who knew no other magic _but_ what came of the darkness, could be freed from it as well?”

A smile spread over his father’s face as his expression softened, melting into something that Gideon knew was the absolutely pure essence of his love. It was a look that always came with acceptance and Gideon waited for the confession, waited for his father to say simply, “I’d like that,” but those words never came.

“You see, it _is_ my fault.” Staggering out of Gideon’s grip, his father moved to the sitting area and dropped to the leather sofa to stare at his hands. “You have all of the goodness from your mother. Why did you take all of the worst parts of me?”

The unexpected question stabbed Gideon in the gut with as much precision as if the knife from the counter had done the job itself. He rushed forward and all but fell into the space beside his father. “Why would you say that, Papa? It isn’t true.”

Quivering with emotion, his father lifted a hand to gesture at the kitchen. “Your mother relaxes you. You have her bravery, her passion for learning, but this… This set determination that drove you to drop from exhaustion, your inability to see what is going on around you because of the task at hand? The anger, the frustration, and all your insecurities, they can only come from me.” Rumple’s hand settled to his own chest as a tear followed the line of his cheek.

Gideon practically scooped his father into his arms, paying no mind to the awkwardness of their angle or the force of his embrace, he clung tightly, refusing to accept what he was told. “That’s your _love_ , Papa. You hold on to what you are thinking because you are trying to _help_ people and the anger that comes with it is only because of your need to make things _right_. _Everyone_ is insecure when it comes to the people they love, especially when they love as deeply as you do.”

He released his father to stare determinedly into his eyes again, willing the words to somehow implant themselves within the man’s heart and mind. “You _love_ , Papa. With _all_ of who you are. It’s your _fate_ that doesn’t allow it to show they way it does for everyone else, but _I_ see it. I _know_. I don’t have the worst parts of you, I have everything that is _wonderful_ about you.”

“He’s right,” Belle whispered as she stepped closer. Gideon watched her thumb rub at the moisture on his father’s face before she bent down to kiss him and felt a twinge of pain in his heart as he saw how difficult it was for her to stand upright again afterwards. “Listen to your son.” She smiled before leaving the two of them for the abandoned food. “And help him move the table so we can sit by the fire.”

Without hesitation the men put themselves into service as if a whip had been cracked over them. In minutes the kitchen table had been moved to the side and three chairs had taken its place, forming a tight horseshoe in front of the fire. As his father moved the tea table to stand between the flames and their seats, Gideon began to work on his favorite blend of tea, adding orange honey and fall spice, then washed the cups that had long been abandoned. By the time he turned around from his work his mother was settled into the center chair and his father had taken the place at her right.

Gideon brought the tea to the short table and poured some for each of them before taking the vacant seat. His mother took a sip and closed her eyes, then idly reached out to his father, who clasped her hand as if on instinct alone. “Perfect,” she whispered and the word seemed to be echoed by the pop of the dancing flames. Eventually she opened her eyes and Gideon caught the glint of play in them. “So, are you going to tell me that you’ve spent so much time in your studies that you haven’t noticed _any_ handsome schoolmates?”

“Mother!” Gideon couldn’t help but laugh at her directness, even though he had grown up expecting nothing less. She wanted to lift the mood and he was more than happy to oblige.

Belle eyed him over the rim of her cup, all innocence and sweetness, which made his father chuckle next. 

“She’s right,” his father pointed out, raising his eyebrows with exaggerated curiosity. “While I don’t accept that you worked yourself to the ground, I can’t believe that you wouldn’t have noticed a handsome young man or two on your way to class.” 

Gideon rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. He could fight them and try to deny it, but he knew they would see right through that deception, just as they had everything else. Instead he took in a deep breath, absorbing the smells of sweetness and cinnamon that filled their small home and began the story they’d asked to hear.

“There is someone in my dormitory…” 

* * *

“It’s so beautiful here…” The breath of a whisper drifted past Gideon to cascade from the cliff like the distant falls. It tore him from his memories and flung him down to reality with such force that he might as well have jumped off the ledge to follow them.

He took in the signs of the land’s abandonment and tried to contain the sigh that wanted to escape him. “It was.”

“No. It _is_.” The forceful nature of the words sent a jolt of something through Gideon that he couldn’t quite explain. “You’re looking through your sadness, at the _past._ Look _out_ at everything beyond this. The sunset, the water, the mountains… It’s like paradise.” 

There was a pause as pressure at Gideon’s side nudged him to turn and take in what anyone else might see. His eyes left the overgrown rose bushes and empty building to focus on the view from the cliff. Again the sun mocked him, but he tried to look beyond it, listening as soft whispers described everything from a stranger’s point of view. Gradually the words tuned his focus on to the items they described. The deep green of the thick woods suddenly felt cooling and comfortable, the fluff of the clouds drifting below brought a feeling of calm and the security of being wrapped in fuzzy blankets, and the light in the sky radiated with a - could delete these two words beauty that Gideon had never taken the opportunity to properly measure. Beginning above them in a brilliantly light blue, it gradually blended itself to yellow and then an orange that vanished into an almost red at the very line of the horizon, making a rainbow as eternal as the love his parents held for each other.

The visual tour continued but Gideon’s mind drifted from it as he let his surroundings properly envelop him. Somehow he could see the spark of mischief in his father’s eyes and the kindness in his mother’s smile. With no warning they were there, really and truly there with them, as physically present as if they stood in the empty space at his side. He felt tears spill from his eyes, but didn’t wipe them away. Instead, he looked over at the man who had insisted he return and watched as he rambled on, face lit up with wonder.

“And whatever memories you’re holding on to, whatever happened here before, _that’s_ what makes everything shine,” he was saying. When the lecture ended he noticed Gideon and the brightness left him. “You okay?”

With a sigh, Gideon shook his head. “I will be. I know that it doesn’t really make sense, but I’m happy.” Gideon reached out to take the man’s hands in his own without taking his eyes from the expressive blue crystals that screamed of concern and tenderness. Gazes locked, he waited until a calm came over them both before allowing a sad smile. “Thank you for making me come here. You were right. I needed to return.”

Slowly that familiar childish grin seeped out from the frown, though it didn’t reach far enough to touch his lover’s eyes. “I’m always right. Didn’t your parents tell you that?” 

The words pulled a chuckle from Gideon before the man-made structure nudged at his peripheral vision. Suddenly it stuck out in the world like a wound on unblemished skin. Yet when Gideon turned to face it, he didn’t feel the pain of it spilling from him, only the dull ache of an injury that was slowly healing . “I don’t know if I can do this. I spent so much time trying to convince my father he could move on after my mother-”

When Gideon’s voice cracked under the weight of his emotions, a familiar warmth returned to his side. “We can go back if you need to.”

“No.” The word was a mere breath, the whisper of hope and determination. 

“You want me to…”

Gideon felt the man shift where he stood, imagined him tossing a thumb over his shoulder to suggest that he leave. The idea made him angry and he pressed his lips into a tight line before squeezing the hand he held to release his frustrations. It wasn’t the person making Gideon upset, after all, only the thought that he saw himself as an unwelcome stranger in this place.

“I want you to see who they were,” Gideon insisted firmly.

His lover’s lips curled upward again, this time in an expression of love. Gideon knew it wasn’t just for him, but for those who were lost to them. “I knew some things.”

“You didn’t know this,” Gideon told him. “And you should.”

Releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Gideon took a step forward, bringing the man who held his heart along with him. Together they left the rush and tumble of the outside world and entered the tranquility of the past.


End file.
